I Don't Like Confined Spaces
by Obsidian Skin
Summary: Stefan's fear of small spaces didn't stem from being locked in a safe underwater for three months. It stem from many incidents in his past.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N** : Hola fam bam! My first TVD fanfic. I'm super excited for you guys to read it! I've had an idea like this cooking around in my head for a while after the episodes where Stefan spent the summer in the safe. Poor guy… Anywho, I really hope you all enjoy the story! I'm hoping to make this a multi-chapter story, but _only_ if you guys like it. The idea of the brother's playing Marco/Polo came from the amazing talented Arikae who agreed to let me use the game for this story. Arikae used the game in the story "No Longer A Hero" which you guys should all go check out! Much love to you all!

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

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There was a legend about the well in the garden. To some, it was known as the Devil's Well. To others it was called the Waterless Hollow. Whichever was the well's true name isn't relevant. The truly relevant fact is how the well became a legend. No one knows who built the well or how long it had been standing. But what everyone did know was that the well held no water… and that it was responsible for the deaths of over fifty people.

Whether the people went into the well of their own volition or if they were forced into it or if it was all by accident is up for discussion. However the people ended up in there, the one things everyone knew is that they were never going to be seen again. The bodies of the victims of the well were never discover for no one ever thought to search the bottom of the well for fear of never emerging back into the sunlight.

Where is the well, you ask? Well that's easy. It's in the garden of the Veritas Estate.

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"Damon?"

The elder Salvatore brother looked up from the book he had been reading when he heard the tentative voice of his seven year old brother. Stefan peeked around the doorframe at his brother. Damon set down his book to give Stefan his full attention. "What is it, little brother?" Damon asked.

Stefan took a step to his left so that he was now fully visible in the doorway. He opened his mouth to answer Damon's question but no words came forth. He closed his mouth, took a shallow breath, and spit out an answer. "What are you doing, Damon?"

Damon blinked twice but didn't respond. He was familiar with this tactic. Whenever Stefan was afraid to ask for something he truly wanted he would beat around the bush by asking other pointless questions. The way to get the little Salvatore to say exactly what he had intended to say was to ignore the pointless questions. So ignore, Damon did.

He watched Stefan shift uncomfortably for a moment or two before, finally, the little Salvatore came out with his intended question. "Damon, will you play with me?" He asked quietly.

As soon as the question was out of his brother's mouth, Damon couldn't help but feel a little guilty. Damon had been ladened with quite of bit of schoolwork that he had been required to bring home from school everyday. The reason he felt guilty was because he had been spending more time on his schoolwork than he had spending with his brother.

Damon pushed his chair back from his desk and stood up. He smiled and paced across the room until he was right in front of his brother and knelt down to his level. "What shall we play today, Stefan?"

Stefan's eyes lit up and a smile stretched across his face. "Hide and go seek!" He piped excitedly as he bounced on the tip of his toes. Damon's own smile grew. "Hide and go seek it is! Do you want to count or shall I?"

"You count, I'll hide," Stefan replied without missing a beat. Damon nodded dutifully before quickly shutting his eyes and covering them with his hands.

"One, two, three, four, five, si–"

"No, no!"

Damon uncovered one eye and peeked at his brother who was still standing in front of him. "You know, Stefan, I don't think you entirely understand this game," he joked. Stefan giggled. "Do it in French, Damon!"

Damon sighed dramatically, but re-covered his eyes nonetheless. "Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit…"

Damon smiled through his counting as he heard his brother take off down the hallway and blaze down the stairs. His smile disappeared though when he heard the unmistakable sound of shattering glass followed immediately by a small voice saying "I'm sorry, father! It was an accident!"

Damon stopped counting and quickly got to his feet, ready to rush down the stairs to his brother's aid. He stopped when he heard the gentle sound of his mother's voice. "I'm sure it was an accident, Stefan. How about you and your brother take your game outside? Hm? Damon!"

Damon was out of his room and down the stairs in an instant. He found his family standing in the foyer gathered around a broken vase. "Yes, mother?" He asked even though he already knew what her request would be.

"Would you take your brother outside to play, please?" Lily Salvatore asked with her ever present serene smile. Damon nodded and grabbed hold of Stefan's hand, guiding him out into the garden behind the Veritas Estate.

"It was an accident, Damon. Honest," Stefan pleaded guiltily. Damon released his hold on his brother. "I know it was an accident, Stef. Now," Damon paused to flash a mischievous smirk, "are we going to finish our game or not?"

A small smile slowly appeared on the little Salvatore's face. Damon took that as a yes and assumed his counting position from earlier. "Treize, quatorze, quinze, seize…" Damon listened as his brother dashed away to find a hiding spot. He would give Stefan to the count of one hundred before he began his search. "… quatre-vingt-seize, quatre-vingt-dix-sept, quatre-vingt-dix-huit, quatre-vingt-dix-neuf, cent. Ready or not, here I come!" He bellowed as he reached one hundred. He scanned the vast garden quickly with his eyes and, once he determined that Stefan was no where in the immediate vicinity, he decided to search the east side of the garden first.

"Stefan!" Damon called as he walked. "Where are you?" He looked up as he walked beneath one of Stefan's favorite climbing trees, but there was no giggling seven year old to be found. Damon continued on his path, all the while calling out Stefan's name. Once the entire East side of the garden had been searched, Damon moved onto the West side. No Stefan there either. Damon twisted his lips and furrowed his brow. This was strange. It didn't normally take this long for Damon to find Stefan.

Normally, Stefan was discovered within the first five minutes of the game. Damon had been searching for nearly fifteen minutes. Perhaps Stefan had gone back inside the house to hide? No, he wouldn't do that, especially not after he had broken that vase.

Damon exhaled sharply. Where was his brother? "All right, Stefan!" He yelled as loud as loud as his lungs permitted. "You win! I can't find you! You can come out now!"

Damon waited a beat before turning on the spot to see if his brother was approaching him from behind, trying to scare him. He wasn't there. Damon's frown deepened. "Stefan!" He shouted again. "I give up! Where are you?"

He closed his eyes and listened for the sound of his brother's voice. Nothing. A few seconds passed. Still nothing. Damon felt the first twinge of worry strike his gut. 'Maybe he didn't hear me,' he thought to himself. Damon took of running though the garden, shouting "Stefan! Come out! Where are you? Stefan!"

Damon panted and slowed to a stop. He had re-searched every inch of the garden and still hadn't found his brother. The twinge of worry had grown into full blown panic. Damon turned and ran into the house. He knew his parents despised when their children ran in the house but Damon didn't care at the moment. "Mother!" He shouted as he burst through the back door. His parents also despised shouting in the house but, again, Damon didn't care. "Mother!" He threw open the sitting room doors and was taken aback to not only find his father there instead of his mother but also the company that his father was entertaining.

There was murder in Giuseppe's eyes as he witnessed his eldest son rudely burst through the doors looking like some kind of wild animal. Damon's eyes met his father's and, out of habit, he stood as upright and rigid as a board and straightened his shirt. "Father. Gentlemen," he addressed, "I extend my deepest apologies for interrupting. It shan't happen again."

"See to it that it doesn't," came Giuseppe's terse response. Damon bowed stiffly before quickly backing out of the room and closing the doors. He spun on his heel and resumed his search for his mother. After what seemed like forever, he found her in the library. "Mother!" He exclaimed with relief. Lily looked away from the shelf she was scanning. Her visage assumed a worried expression upon seeing her son's distress. "Damon, what's wrong?"

Damon heaved a breath. "Have you seen Stefan?"

Lily frowned. "Your brother? I thought you two were playing outside. I trusted that you were keeping an eye on him."

Damon's panic was now laced with hints of guilt. "I was keeping an eye on him. I swear it! We were playing hide and go seek in the garden. You know that Stefan's not very good at that game. I searched everywhere in the garden but," Damon paused to inhale quickly, "I can't find him. He hasn't come inside, has he?"

Lily shook her head. "If he has, I have not seen him. You're sure you searched the entire garden?"

Damon nodded forcefully. "I searched the whole place twice. I'm sorry. I know I was supposed to keep on eye on him." He hung his head in shame. How could he lose his brother?

His head shot up as he felt a delicate hand on his cheek. "You didn't lose him, Damon," Lily said as she stared into the bright blue eyes of her eldest son. "Stefan has simply picked up on few new hide and go seek tricks."

His mother's reassurance lifted some of the panic in Damon's stomach.

"We'll find him before it gets dark," Lily soothed. "Come, let's go inform your father."

Damon took a step to the side and allowed Lily to breeze by him and exit the room. Damon was quick to follow.

Lily knocked sharply on the doors that lead to the sitting room. A faint "Enter," was heard from within the room. Lily pulled open one of the heavy glass doors and stepped inside the room.

"Gentlemen, I am sorry to interrupt."

There were choruses of "No trouble at all, Mrs. Salvatore," and "Not at all, ma'am," from the men in the room. Lily turned to face her husband who stood lounging against the fireplace with a cigar between his fingers. "What can I do for you, my dear?" Giuseppe said as he raised the cigar to his lips.

"Giuseppe, we must speak with you. If you don't mind us taking you from your company momentarily?" Lily spoke with an undertone that brokered no argument. Giuseppe must have picked up on the tone for he was quick to snuff out his cigar and excuse himself from the room.

"What is it, Lily? Make it quick," Mr. Salvatore said with his ever present sense of urgency and impatience. Lily looked at Damon to answer the question.

"I can't find Stefan, father. We were playing hide and go seek in the garden and I couldn't find him. He wasn't responding to my calls for him to come out of hiding so I came to see if perhaps he had ventured inside to hide," Damon stated in a rush.

"I take it this was the reason for your unacceptable entrance earlier?"Giuseppe snipped.

Lily reached out and laid a hand on her son's shoulder. She gave him an encouraging nod then turn and scorned her husband with a single look. Giuseppe huffed but gestured for Damon to go on.

"He's not out in the garden and he's not in the house… I fear he may be in the well," Damon voiced the concern that had been nagging at him. He heard Lily's sharp intake of breath.

"Stefan knows better than to go near that well. He wouldn't," she protested but the fear was clear in her eyes and her voice.

"If he's gone into that well, then I say good riddance," Giuseppe spat. Damon stared at his father in shock.

"Giuseppe!" Lily cried with horror. "You don't mean that!"

"Of course I do! That rascal knows better. If he's ended up at the bottom of that forsaken well then he probably deserves it!" With that, Giuseppe forcefully opened the sitting room doors and rejoined his company, closing the doors just as forcefully behind him.

Lily set her jaw. "Let's go find your brother, Damon." With a swish of her skirt, Lily disappeared down the hall. "Go find some rope," she called behind her as she opened the door to the garden. Without hesitation, Damon went and retrieved the rope that they kept in the closet under the stairs at all times. Hoping it would be long enough to reach the bottom of the well, Damon headed to the back door, snagging a lamp and a set of matches on his way out.

He raced to the well that sat alone in the far western corner of the garden and found his mother already there. To his horror, the wooden covering of the well had been set aside and a rope was already descending into the well. "Mother…," Damon whispered. Lily looked up quickly.

"You're sure you searched everywhere else?" She asked worriedly. Damon nodded mutely. He stepped forward and set his collection of items down beside the well. He braced his hands against the sides and looked down into the well. Even with the sun high overhead, the bottom of the well was not visible. "Stefan!" He yelled. He listened to his voice echo and it carried down the shaft. There was no reply.

"Oh, this is all my fault," Damon said under his breath as he began to haul up the dangling rope. It took a moment but eventually Damon was able to bring the end of the rope into view. There was nothing attached. "Stefan!" The elder Salvatore shouted down the well again. As before, echoes were the only response he received.

Damon turned to see what Stefan had tied the other end of the rope around: a tree. Damon sighed. Stefan may have be stupid enough to go down into the well but at least he was smart enough to make sure he had a strong anchor. Damon walked over to the tree and tugged at the knot Stefan had created. He wrapped both hands around the rope and leaned backward, trusting the rope to support his entire weight. The rope pulled taught but didn't give.

Damon couldn't help but be impressed with his brother's handiwork.

"I'm going down to find him," Damon stated as he retraced his steps back to the well where his mother was anxiously waiting. He threw the free end of Stefan's rope back into the well and watched as it disappeared into the blackness. Bracing his weight against the rope, Damon stepped up onto the lip of the well.

"Here," Lily proffered up the lamp and set of matches. Damon stared at his mother's concern riddled face for a moment. He was surprised at the lack of protest from Lily. He had half expected her to offer to go down into the well herself or at least try to stop him from descending into the well. She must have been more worried and anxious than Damon realized.

Damon took the matches and stuffed them in his pants pocket and hooked the lantern's handle around his wrist. Just as he was preparing to walk down the well's inner wall, he felt a hand on elbow. Bright blue eyes met equally blue eyes.

"Bring him back safely, Damon," Lily pleaded softly. "And please, for the love of God, be careful."

Damon offered the most reassuring smile he could muster. "I'll bring him back. I promise."

Lily sighed and released her son's arm. "If you're not back within the hour I will be sending someone down after you."

The dark haired teen nodded resolutely and began his descent into the Devil's Well.

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Damon's feet hit the soft earth with a muted _thud_. "Stefan?" He half whispered. He dipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved the matches. He managed to light the lamp in the thick black by sheer muscle memory alone. In the low light, Damon looked around at his surroundings. The well wasn't very big at all. Maybe nine feet in diameter. Damon looked up to see if he could see the opening of the well. He could; but the light coming from the noonday sun didn't seem to reach all the way to the bottom of the well.

Damon refocused his attention on finding his brother who, alarmingly, didn't appear to be at the bottom of the well. Damon lowered his lantern and scanned the entire floor of the well. the ground was full of white rocks protruding from the dirt. Upon closer inspection, he gasped as he realized that those were not rocks as he had first thought; they were bones – human bones.

Damon blinked rapidly, trying to clear the image from his mind. He shook his head and returned to his task of finding his brother. He scrutinized the perimeter and found nothing of note. Except – was that a hole? The elder Salvatore brother quirked his head to the side and crouched slightly, walking over to an opening in the wall that he hadn't noticed previously.

That was definitely a hole. The hole was almost four feet high and about the same in width: a perfect space for a seven year old boy to hide in. Damon brought the lamp closer to the hole and was shocked to find that it was in fact a tunnel, not a hole.

Damon dropped down onto his knees and braced his free hand against the floor. Looks like he had some crawling to do. Damon held the light in front of him as he inched into the tunnel.

He hadn't made it very far in when he was confronted with a diverging pathway that lead five different ways.

Damon huffed slightly. He bit his lip. Which path would Stefan have took? Damon guessed and settled for going down the middle path.

"Stefan? You down here, brother? It's me; it's Damon."

Every couple of feet, Damon would call out his brother's name, hoping and praying for a response. It wasn't long before he came to another diverging pathway. He sighed and paused his shuffling and listened for any sounds that would indicate which direction his brother had gone. He closed his eyes and strained his ears, listening for any sound other than that of his own breathing.

His concentration was suddenly broken as he felt something scurry of the back of calf. He jumped and dropped the lantern which caused the flame to snuff out. Damon froze in the complete blackness. Realizing he had to relight the lamp, he quickly fumbled for the matches in his pocket.

His heart jumped as he realized his pocket was empty. Had he put the matches in his other pocket? A quick search revealed that he had, in fact, not put the matches in his other pocket. They must have slipped out of his pocket somewhere along the way.

"Journey in the dark it is," Damon muttered to himself. "Stefan!" He shouted at a louder pitch. He shuffled forward on all fours, hyperaware of where he was placing his hands and feet.

He pressed onward, calling out for his brother and hesitating whenever he heard a sound, for what seemed like eternity. Who knew that these little tunnels existed? Just as he was beginning to doubt that Stefan was even in the tunnels, he heard a faint yelp.

Damon felt his heart begin to race. "Stefan?" He called down the tunnel.

He covered his nose and mouth to mute the sound of his breathing, straining his ears to catch the sound of what he hope was his brother's voice.

"Damon?"

Damon would have jumped for joy had he not been confined by the small crawlspace. "Stefan, where are you?"

Damon swore he heard a sob come from somewhere far ahead of him. "I'm here, Damon… I'm scared. It's dark."

Damon started to move forward. "Stefan, where are you?" He repeated.

Another sob. "I'm scared, Damon," Stefan wailed. Damon's heart went out to his brother. Ever since Stefan was little he wasn't fond of the dark. More often than not, Stefan would find his way into his big brother's bed and snuggle up next to Damon, waiting for the sun to crest the horizon.

"I know you're scared, Stef. I'm coming to find you."

"Damon!"

"I'm coming, Stefan. Calm down." Damon dared to move faster.

"Damon, where are you?"

Damon could sense that his brother was getting restless. He needed to switch tactics and fast.

"Marco!" He called down the tunnel. There was no response. "Come on, Stefan. I need you to help me find you. Marco!"

"…Polo."

"That's it, little brother. Marco!"

"Polo!"

"Marco!"

Damon followed the sound of his brother's shuddering voice. He seemed to be somewhere ahead and to the left of Damon. The game went on until Damon knew that his brother was nothing more than a few feet ahead of him.

The elder Salvatore was stopped abruptly as his head collided with solid stone. He reversed quickly while reaching up to rub at his throbbing forehead. The tunnel seemed to have narrowed suddenly.

"Stefan?" He called.

"Damon?"

"I'm right here, little brother, but I can't go any farther. You'll have to come to me. Can you do that, Stefan? It's not far."

"But where are you?"

"I'm right here, Stefan," He said softly. "Marco."

"Polo," came Stefan's shaky reply. Damon was encourage by the shuffling sounds coming from ahead of him.

"Marco," he repeated. He was alarmed when a small head collided with his shoulder.

"Polo," Stefan giggled. Damon smiled and stretched out an arm to wrap around his brother.

"Found you."

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Thanks for reading! Drop me a review and let me know what you thought! All the love and cherry pie!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** : Hi! I can't believe you're back for my crappy writing…. But I am so thankful that you are! It really means a lot to me :) Thank you to the kind souls who reviewed and favorited: that also means a lot to me. Mericlerson requested that I add in a some grown up Salvatores – which I had already planned on doing if people liked the story. I guess great minds think alike XD Anywho, consider this an early Thanksgiving gift (even though people don't give gifts on Thanksgiving…) **WARNING: Un-beta'd. Let me know if you catch any mistakes!**

 **DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing! I make no profit off of this. This is solely for my enjoyment and hopefully for the enjoyment of others! ;)

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"You honestly don't remember me?"

Stefan laughed but quickly thought better of it as the stake in his gut shifted. "I'm sorry to burst you bubble, but you'd be surprised by the amount of enemies I've made in my 140 years of being on this planet. I can't honestly say that I remember you." Stefan flashed a closed mouth smile. "Sorry."

The man, self-proclaimed Sebastion Belousov, strutted forward to where Stefan sat tied down, grabbed the stake and gave it a firm twist and shove.

Stefan gasped, narrowly avoiding giving Sebastion the pleasure of hearing him scream.

Sebastion thrust his face close to the vampire's. "Krasnodar, Russia, 1953. You killed my wife in the middle of the town's square."

Confusion spread across Stefan's face. 1953? Sebastion didn't look a day over twenty-five. That had to mean… "You're a vampire," he said as he finally connected the dots. He gritted his teeth as Sebastion gave the stake another twist. "I didn't kill your wife!"

"Liar!" Belousov shouted. He pulled a second stake out of back pocket and wasted no time in jamming it into Stefan's left shoulder. Stefan threw his head back and bit down on the howl that was desperate to escape.

"I wasn't… anywhere near… Russia in 1953," he panted through the pain. "I've never seen you or your wife before in my life."

Belousov stared into his captive's pain-filled eyes, scrutinizing, searching for the lie. He found none. "No… no! No! I know it was you!" He jammed an accusing finger into Stefan's chest. "I saw your face. You were covered in my wife's blood but you had this sick smile on your face, like you were enjoying every second of killing her. You enjoyed it, didn't you? You enjoyed it, you sick bastard!"

Belousov produced yet another stake and proceeded to thrust it into Stefan's knee. This time, Stefan did scream.

"Well I am going to enjoy every second of making you pay for what you did," Sebastion said as his mouth transformed into a sadistic smile. Quickly, he inserted two fingers into his mouth and let loose a sharp whistle.

Almost immediately, a man appeared at the doorway. "Sir?"

"Bring me the freezer, Yousef," Sebastion responded without taking his eyes of his captive.

Yousef nodded briskly and disappeared. Within the next minute, Yousef and another man reappeared carrying between them what looked like a large box.

"That's it?" Stefan couldn't help asking. "That's your big torture device?" He scoffed lightly. "Doesn't look like much."

The two men set the box down in the middle of the room and stood by it, waiting for further instruction. Belousov backed away from Stefan and went to open the lid of the box. "See that is where you are wrong, Mr. Salvatore. This used to be an freezer that someone threw out. It doesn't freeze anything anymore but, with a few years of experimental tinkering, I've transformed it into an amazing vampire holding cell." Sebastion smiled over at his captive.

Stefan kept his exterior calm and composed, not revealing anything. Internally, his heart beat picked up and his lungs decided that now would be a good time to tell his brain that they weren't getting enough air. ' _Breathe, Stefan,_ ' he commanded himself. ' _It's just a box. You'll be fine_.'

"Gentlemen, if you'd be so kind." Sebastion gestured grandly at the vampire tied to the chair. Stefan watched apprehensively as the two men approached him, tipped his chair backwards, turned the chair around so that Stefan was facing the wall, and dragged Stefan over to where Belousov was waiting.

"Get the chains, Samuel," came the sound of Sebastion's voice behind the bound vampire.

"You do realize that you're not scaring me, right?" Stefan said in an attempt to show bravery. Belousov laughed deeply. "Your heartbeat says otherwise."

Stefan grunted as he felt the familiar prick of a needle being inserted into his neck. Belousov slowly depressed the plunger, emptying the contents of the syringe into Stefan's bloodstream.

Even before the syringe was empty, Stefan felt the burn of vervain racing through his veins. His eyelids slid shut of their own volition.

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Consciousness was slow to return to Stefan. The vampire blinked his eyes open. Were his eyes open? The world was so black around him he couldn't be sure. Where was he?

He could feel that he was laying down and that his legs felt incredibly cramped. There was pain coming his stomach, his shoulder, and his knee. Why? What happened to – the freezer.

Stefan froze. Nononononono…. Stefan squeezed his eyes shut. How long had he been in here? He attempted to sit up, trying to get a feel of how big the box actually was. He immediately stopped trying when the pain in his stomach intensified. Stefan groaned and reached over a hand to explore the area.

It felt as if Sebastion had snapped off the main shaft of the stake but left the pointed head imbedded in his abdomen. Stefan clenched his jaw and stuck his fingers into the wound, desperate to get the wood out of his gut. He groaned in frustration when he couldn't get a solid grip on the fragment. He felt his teeth grinding as he pushed his fingers in farther. He still couldn't get a good enough grip.

He withdrew his fingers and lay gasping. If anything, he had only succeeded in shoving the piece in deeper.

Forgoing the piece in his stomach, he went on to fish out the pieces left in his knee and his shoulder.

Once he felt that he had retrieved most of the splinters he realized that he had nothing to distract him from the fact that he was lying enclosed in a box. There wasn't much distance between his shoulders and the sides of the box and there was no where near enough room for him to stretch out his legs.

Stefan pounded the side of his fist against the side panel. "Hey!" He shouted hoarsely. He coughed to clear his sore throat. It was the kind of sore that came from a constant stream of yelling. Had he woken up once before? If he had, why wasn't his throat healed?

"Hey! Let me out of here!" He pounded the panel again. "Hey!" He began to breathe faster. Could anyone hear him? What if they had forgotten about him? Was he doomed to spend eternity in an old freezer?

"Hey! Let me out! Let. Me. Out!" He emphasized each word with a bang on the panel.

He ran a hand through his hair. He needed to get out. He couldn't stay in here. He couldn't breathe. There wasn't enough air.

Stefan gasped and clawed at his chest.

The blackness was pressing down on him; a weight he wasn't strong enough to lift.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he felt his chest tightening.

The space was too small. His muscles were cramping, begging to be stretched and extended.

Stefan braced his hands against both of the walls and pushed with every ounce of strength he had.

The walls didn't budge. They seemed to be collapsing inwards..

"No, no, no…" He whimpered.

He kept his hands braced against the sides as if they were the only things keeping the sides from falling and smothering him.

"Let me out! Please…I can't breathe. I can't – I can't – I ca–"

His airways felt as though they were shrinking, tightening.

Just as he felt himself going lightheaded, on the verge of passing out, he heard the sound of rattling chains and clicking locks. He opened his eyes just as the lid of the freezer was lifted.

He blinked his eyes rapidly as bright light streamed in. Once his vision cleared he was able to make out the smiling face of Sebastion Belousov.

Belousov cocked his head. "Awake again? How are we this time, Mr. Salvatore?"

Stefan set his jaw and glared up at his captor, not giving any response.

Belousov chuckled. "Are you ready to confess to the murder of my wife?"

Stefan responded by giving Sebastion his best Damon glare, the one where you narrow your eyes and stare at the person like they were spawned by two of the dumbest people on earth.

"I see then," Belousov nodded. "Well allow me to introduce you to a very dear friend of mine."

Sebastion disappeared momentarily. When he returned he was accompanied by a hispanic woman with a long black braid over her shoulder.

"Stefan, this is Mary Beth. Mary Beth, meet Stefan," Sebastion said in an inappropriately chipper voice. "You know what to do, sweetheart."

Mary Beth nodded and raised a closed fist.

"Phasmatos celaverimus ante visio," she whispered gently. She opened her fist so that her palm faced upward. Pursing her lips she blew a pinkish powder onto Stefan. The second the dust hit Stefan's face he knew what it was: vervain.

He screamed as it burned his eyes and skin. He scrubbed furiously at his face, desperate to be rid of the poison.

He was left breathing heavily as the pain receded and his skin healed. He looked around; it was dark again. Did Sebastion shut the lid? He couldn't have. Stefan still felt the cooler air from outside.

"What did you do?" He gasped. He heard Belousov laugh his deep belly laugh.

"Thank you, Mary, darling," he said through his chuckles. Stefan's eyes darted left and right, desperately trying to see around him. What did that witch do to him?

"Enjoy the next few hours. Yelp if you need help," Sebastion added sarcastically as he shut the lid.

"Sebastion! Hey! What did she do to me? Sebastion!"

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"G-Going up to the s-s-spirit in the sk-sky…," Stefan sang softly. "That's w-where I'm gonna g-g-go when I-I-I-I d-die. When I-I die a-and they l-l-lay me to re-rest, I'm g-gonna go t-to the place that's the b-b-best."

Stefan inhaled deeply and breathed out slowly. He didn't know how long he had been lying in the freezer. Sebastion had said he would be back in a few hours but it felt longer than that. It felt like days.

Somewhere in the downtime Stefan's nerves had taken control of his body. It started with his hands. They shook violently enough to the point where he had to stuff them in to his armpits to keep them from quivering. Even then he could still feel them shaking.

The shaking spread to his jaw, as if he were cold – a sensation he hadn't experienced since 1863. Soon the shaking had spread to his entire body until every inch of him was plagued with incessant shuddering. The shaking combined with the point of the stake still buried in his chest was torture.

To distract himself from the panic and pain that was unrelenting, he had resorted to singing – something he never did. He was slowly but surely working his way through each era of music. Right now he was working through the 1960's.

"Hey, y-yourself, you kn-know it's a must: g-g-gotta have a f-fr-friend in Jes-Jesus."

Stefan freed a hand from its prison in his armpit and gave a lethargic whack to the side panel. He went on singing, punctuating the lyrics with hits to the side panels. He felt his knuckles bruising but he didn't care. They would heal soon enough.

"Oh, r-r-recommend you t-to the sp-spirit in the…" Stefan's singing trailed off as his ears picked up what he thought was a scream. He held his breath.

A barely audible scream reached his ears.

"W-W-What the h-hell?" What was going on? He did his best to keep his breathing and his chattering jaw quiet as he listened to the noises happening outside. He could only scarcely make out the sounds of screaming, thumps, and running feet. Then, as soon as it had started, all was quiet.

Had there been fight? Stefan kept straining his ears, desperate to find out what was going on. He heard the faint sound of boots clomping on wooden floorboards above him. What were the odds that this boot-wearing person was coming to look for him? Highly unlikely, but Stefan would give anything to be out of his suffocating makeshift prison.

"H-Hey, down h-h-here!" He yelled as loud as he could, praying he could be heard through the freezer and the floorboards. Whoever was walking around must've heard his voice because the footsteps stopped abruptly.

"D-Down here!"

The footsteps started again, this time they moved much more quickly. There was a bang as what Stefan assumed was a door was thrown open. "Stefan?"

Stefan choked on his breath. It couldn't be…

"Marco!"

Stefan's pulse sped up. "P-P-Polo!"

"Marco!" Damon.

"P-Polo!"

"Marco!" Stefan could hear Damon's voice getting closer.

"Po-P-Polo!"

Stefan gasped as he felt a rush of cool, sweet air bathe his sweaty skin.

"Found you."

Stefan started to laugh, amazed at the impossibleness of the situation, but stopped quickly when the point of the stake re-commanded its presence.

"Damon…," he breathed.

"Good to see you too, little bro. Are you going to take my hand or not?"

"Sure. Where is it?" Stefan had figured it out earlier that the hispanic with had blinded him, whether temporarily or permanently he didn't know.

Stefan could almost sense the frown that was dominating Damon's face. Stefan did his best to quell his shaking and extended a hand up to where he suspected Damon's hand would be. He guessed wrong.

Damon didn't say anything; he simply moved his hand to meet Stefan's and hauled his brother upright. He was quick to wrap an arm around Stefan's middle as Stefan's knees buckled under him.

"S-Sorry," Stefan apologized. "H-Haven't st-st-stood up for a w-while."

Damon's frown deepened. "You're shaking, Stefan." Immediately, he felt Stefan tense in an attempt to stop his shaking. Damon had known his brother was going to be a wreck the second he heard Stefan's voice coming from the metal container circled with chains. "You okay?" Stupid question, Damon. Of course he wasn't okay.

Stefan huffed a shaky laugh. "Fine. H-Help me o-out of h-h-here, w-would you?"

Damon nodded and tightened his arm around the younger Salvatore's middle. Damon was shocked when Stefan yelped unexpectedly.

"Whoa, whoa! What happened? What's wrong?"

Stefan grunted. "There's a piece of stake lodged somewhere in my gut," he answered through gritted teeth. Damon moved his arm and peeled up Stefan's shirt. Sure enough, there was a quarter-sized wound just below Stefan's navel that was still oozing blood. "Nasty," he commented under his breath.

"You t-th-think?" Stefan snipped. Damon rolled his eyes. "All right, come on. Let's get you out of there first and then I'll work on getting that out."

Damon talked Stefan through getting his long legs over the lip of the container and onto the ground. Once Stefan was free, Damon guided him over to wall and instructed him to sit so Damon could fish out the stake fragment.

"What happened, Stefan?" He asked to keep an exhausted looking Stefan engaged. Stefan rested his head back against the brick wall. "He s-s-said I k-killed his wife… in R-Russia… 1953…"

Damon looked up from his task at his brother who's eyes had slipped shut. "So?"

Stefan peeked open one eye. "So w-wh-what?"

Damon grunted as the his fingers slipped on the wood fragment. Stefan grunted also, from the pain of his brother's fingers jostling his insides and from the pain of stake being shoved deeper into his abdomen. "Did you kill her?" Damon asked.

Stefan snorted. "N-No, I didn't k-k-kill h-her, D-Damon."

"Hah!" Damon shouted triumphantly as he pulled the elusive piece of the stake free of his brother's insides. Stefan sighed as he felt his skin start to knit back together.

"T-Thank y-y-you," he said with relief. Damon clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Anytime. All right, let's get you home and figure out this blind problem." He grabbed Stefan's hand and heaved Stefan to his feet.

"D-D-Damon?"

"Yeah, Stef?"

"Th-Thanks for f-finding me."

Damon smiled lightly. "I'll always find you, Stefan."

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Thanks for reading! Drop me a review and let me know what you thought! Happy Thanksgiving!


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